A Good Judge Of Character
by Todd's Pet
Summary: The Defiant One wraith - Greg - is one of my favs and deserves someone special, someone strong, someone who he can take care of!


This wasn't quite what she thought being a wraith worshipper was all about. When she was first taken, only a few weeks ago, she had envisaged adventure, excitement, perhaps even spying… or at least those secret things her older sisters whispered about in the night when they thought she was asleep.

But this… this is no better than being a slave.

She had heard that the wraith were a technologically advanced species, but even the laundries on her home planet were easier to work in than this – not that she ever had done, but she had watched others work there.

Working in the hive laundry is exhausting. In the wash-house area she has to heave great loads of clothes from enormous big soapy vats, wring them out and then haul them into even bigger rinsing vats, before finally pulling them through old-fashioned mangles then hanging them in warm air cupboards to dry. Not only is it back-breaking work but the strong soaps leave her skin dry, cracked and sore.

This means that it's even harder for her when she is obliged to work in the mending area. She's learned that the wraith are fussy about their clothing and even minute flaws have to be mended. Such delicate work is difficult when your hands crack and bleed with every flex of your fingers. The heavy leather of the coats does not help and she frequently ends up stabbing herself with the needles as she tries to push them through the thick layers.

She wasn't used to such hard work where she came from, but her complaining only makes life harder; she's frequently worked from dusk until dawn as punishment for her defiant nature and is often denied food and sleep as well.

For the last five weeks she's been exhausted and permanently hungry, and she doesn't noticed the wraith who watches her carefully every time he comes down into the laundry sections.

oOo

He watches her grit her teeth in determination as she tries to haul a basket of wet clothes almost as big as herself to the other side of the room; unable to even contemplate lifting it, she drags it across the floor, but several times it refuses to budge and she uses both hands on the handle and curses it under her breath, as if she were trying to coax a particularly stubborn donkey to move.

She's a feisty little thing, he thinks.

He's an enormous, dreadlocked wraith, bigger than almost all of his hive brothers, and he could pick the vat up and toss it in the corner like it was a rag doll. It seems so unfair to stand and watch such a tiny little human try to do such work by herself.

He knows their technology could make this process so much easier, but most of the wraith simply don't care enough about these lowest humans to even think about easing their burdens. And he also knows if he were seen to be helping one of them it would only bring trouble – not for him, but for her.

Not beautiful enough to be taken as a personal worshipper, such humans are put to work – and work they do; the life spans of those who toil in the hive basement is pitifully short.

He wonders what kind of life is worse for a human: to work as a slave until you drop with exhaustion, or to bear the humiliation of life as a "pet" – even if you were lucky enough not to be given to a wraith who abused you just for the fun of it.

Both end up being fed upon anyway once they've outlived their usefulness or entertainment value. Perhaps those who are fed upon immediately are the lucky ones, he ponders.

In charge of requisitions and organising the day-to-day running of the hive, it's part of his duties to come down to the work areas at least once a week to receive reports from the humans in charge.

For many years he's witnessed the pecking order among the humans who work here and how badly they treat each other. In many ways there is not as much difference between wraith and human as either species may like. Indeed some of the humans display a creative cruelty that even the worst wraith only reserve for humans, not each other. Wraith treat each other with honourable aggression, not wanton neglect.

Until now this observation has allowed him to be a casual observer, even though his own personal instinct leans against cruelty to humans, and he has been able to view them objectively. Until five weeks ago, when this skinny little female arrived and stole his heart with her steely spirit.

oOo

The new Queen has recently decreed one day a month off hive for her human staff. Some of them simply relish the prospect of walking on a planet, feeling the earth beneath their feet and breathing fresh, un-recycled air under a wide, open pale blue sky. Others try in vain to trace relatives they hope against hope might still be alive.

For that reason the laundry is deserted when he goes there today. He knew it would be; as he also knew she would be the only one there; denied her day off the hive by her human charge hand for her latest stubborn outburst.

He gets there earlier than usual and carrying a box under his arm. As expected she has been left to do the entire day's work all by herself as punishment.

He watches her from the shadows for several minutes. She pushes and pulls and heaves and shoves, repeatedly sighing with the exertion. Her unruly, curly, red hair – clearly as stubborn as it's owner – constantly springs from the band she's pulled it back into and she keeps pushing it back from her eyes with hands that are dry and cracked, little red patches where the sore skin has broken.

Certain that no one else is around, he steps from the shadows and makes his presence known. Intent on her work, she turns and walks right into him, her face looking straight at his chest. He stands still and solemn as she tilts her head back to look up at his face. He's more than used to the fear he inspires in humans when they see him for the first time and waits for the usual little squeak of terror. It doesn't come; instead she smiles at him.

She has an open smile, completely devoid of fear, that makes her grey eyes sparkle in spite of the heavy dark circles under them. He just can't help himself and he smiles back at her and is rewarded by her smile widening into a little ray of sunshine.

"Hello," she says. "I didn't expect to see anyone at all down here today."

oOo

"Won't you get into trouble for this?" she asks him anxiously.

"No, I won't," he tells her. He pushes the box closer to her, encouraging her to eat. The box of food he has brought her lies open between them, the contents half eaten already. "But you might, so this will have to be our little secret."

He gets up and leaves her to her food while he lifts the clothes tubs from one end of the room to the other as if they weighed nothing, tipping their contents into the huge vats. She watches him as he does all the back-breaking work she should be doing – but he does it cheerfully and easily and in a fraction of the time it would take her to do it.

"You shouldn't be doing that," she says, "It's slave's work."

"And what good are you as a slave if you're too exhausted to work?" He turns his beaming smile on her and asks, "What is your name, Little One?"

"Ellie," she replies shyly. Even the humans down here are not interested in her name.

"You can call me Greg, if you like," he tells her.

"I can? That would be all right? You wouldn't mind?"

"Not only would I not mind, I would like it if you do."

"You're really very kind, Greg, you know that?"

He laughs fulsomely and she finds herself thinking it's one of the most pleasant sounds she's ever heard. "You must be the only human in all of history to ever describe a wraith as kind!" he says.

She sits back and watches the ease with which he works, his muscles fluid and strong as he lifts and carries. The heat of the laundry, the gentle sound of his cheerful humming and the mead that he had brought her all combine to make her fall asleep. And her dreams of Greg make her sleep peaceful for the first time in many weeks.

oOo

She wakes with a start in her cot in the tiny closet off the laundry that she has had to call home for the last couple of months. She looks around, slightly disorientated, and realises she's quite alone. Was it all a dream then? As she rolls over to get up, she feels a lump under her pillow. She lifts it and finds a small parcel of food and a little tub.

As she reaches for the tub, she takes a sharp intake of breath. Her hands! The skin of her hands has been soothed and moisturised! She lifts the tub and takes off the lid; the contents have the same slightly medicinal, floral scent as her hands. She scoops out a tiny fingerful and rubs it on the back of her hand. It's a healing balm and someone has already rubbed some into her hands – no doubt, the same someone who has also left a parcel of food under her pillow.

She gets up and walks into the laundry… it's pristine. All the work done, the heavy tubs stacked neatly in one corner, the lifting tongs hung up and the washing strung neatly in the drying area.

She knows she didn't do all that by herself in such a short time.

So it wasn't a dream after all. The wraith who called himself Greg really did come here and do all this for her.

But just as her heart swells with affectionate gratitude, another part of her mind clamps down on it just as surely… he is a wraith, she reminds herself – what will he want in return?

oOo

What is the big wraith up to, he asks himself? Surely there are enough personal worshippers on the hive that no wraith need go sneaking down to the laundry slaves? But he knows what he saw when he passed by the laundry late last night.

The big dreadlocked wraith carrying the new laundry slave in his arms to her sleeping cot – and she wasn't struggling or protesting in any way, either.

That particular wraith has never shown any interest in personal worshippers before… perhaps he has strange tastes in humans? No matter. Mating with slaves is deeply frowned upon and he's certain the Commander will be very interested in this little snippet of information. There might even be a promotion in it for him.

oOo

Ellie can't say that Greg's visits don't please her; in fact as the weeks go by she finds herself looking out for him and the nights when he comes are like little chinks of sunlight in the darkness of her day-to-day drudgery.

Yet, happy though his presence makers her feel, there is still that little niggle in the back of her mind.

"All right," he tells her one night as they sit on her cot and chat, "Tell me what's wrong." She looks at him, puzzled and he adds, "There is something bothering you – I sense it."

She blushes deeply and, unlike the way their talk usually flows so easily, she stammers as she replies, "You've done so much for me… the healing balm, the food, helping me with my work…" She pauses and looks down at her hands, now fully healed and soft again, and twists them in her lap. "But I cannot repay you… in any way…"

He smiles warmly and lifts her face to look at him. "Did I ask you to?" he says. "But if you ever need me my room is down the far end of the corridor and up two levels–"

"You expect me to come to your private quarters?" she says, suddenly aghast that he had completely misunderstood her. But his next comment makes her blush again as she realises she had been the one to misunderstand.

"Learn to listen," he tells her gently. "I said, 'if you need me' not, 'if I want you'."

Greg realises he feels protective of her somehow – but he is also fearful of what her determination will lead her to try to do. "Promise me that you will not do anything rash, at least not without speaking to me first," he tells her. She wonders what he means and questions him with her eyes. "No daring escape bids," he adds in explanation. "I know your life here is hard to bear, but I will find a way to help you, I promise. Do we have an agreement?"

She looks him straight in the eye and the sincerity she sees there makes her know in her heart that she can trust this wraith. She throws her arms around his waist and buries her face in his chest. He enfolds her in his arms and rests his chin on the top of her head. Even the smell of the laundry soap in her hair does not detract from the warm feeling he gets from having her in his arms like this – a feeling that only deepens when she murmurs into his chest, "Thank you, Greg – you're my best friend… my only friend."

.

But the next time Greg goes to visit Ellie brings cause for concern. As he rounds the corner he steps back sharply, falling back into the shadows so he can watch.

Too far away to hear what they are saying, nevertheless, Greg can see that this is not good. Another wraith, a small and smooth-haired one, is holding Ellie by the arm and is speaking to her aggressively in hushed tones. Whatever he is saying to her clearly alarms and frightens her. He's obviously not threatening to feed on her for he is grasping her with his right hand, and he knows Ellie would react to such a threat with defiance anyway. What could he possibly be saying to her that would make her look so fearful?

If he thinks he can toy with her... Greg catches himself feeling deeply possessive and protective but reminds himself that leaping out to defend her would only put her in even more danger, so he waits until the other wraith leaves.

He knows she feels trapped and doesn't want her to try to escape on her own and end up being killed... but he begins to realise there's another reason he doesn't want her to try to escape: he'd miss her.

oOo

She is reluctant to tell him what the other wraith's business was, down here in the laundry – and even more reluctant to venture out into the corridors of the hive and go with him to his room. Eventually he persuades her on both counts.

"He thought we had been…?" Greg starts to laugh.

"I don't see what's funny about it," she says, pouting. "If I'm to be punished then I would rather it was for something I had actually done!"

When Greg turns and looks at her with a very odd expression, she realises what she just implied. But instead of blushing and looking away, she holds his gaze and knows at that moment that, if he asked it of her, then she would.

But all Greg can think of is protecting her. "Do not worry – you will not be punished. But for now we must get you back before you are missed." He ushers her out into the corridor again.

"But he said it would be you who would be punished!" she tells him. He does not miss the concern for him in her comment.

"I will not be punished, no matter how much he might want it."

"How can you be so sure?" she asks.

"Because I will speak to the Commander before he does," he reassures her.

But he hadn't bargained on the depth of the other wraith's ambition; they have barely gotten half the length of the hallway before the hive Commander – and Queen! – come sweeping in from a side corridor. Ellie walks slap bang into the Commander, who actually lifts her off her feet as he swings her round to face him.

"You're new here, aren't you?" he demands. "One of the creatures from the laundry?"

She rankles at being referred to as a creature and faces him boldly. "I work in the laundry but I don't believe myself to be a 'creature' any more than you are!"

There. She'd said it. He can do with her what he will. Greg groans inwardly and prays he can salvage this perilous situation.

"Well, well – a spirited laundry slave! I shall sleep more soundly knowing such a _creature_ has laundered my bed sheets!" the Commander bellows, but there is a dangerous undertone to his voice, even though the content of the comment is frivolous.

The Queen does not miss it and hisses quietly at him as she steps forward. She walks around Ellie slowly and Ellie follows her as she does. The Queen stops in front of her and strokes the back of her hand down her cheek. "Spirited indeed," she says, but looks at Greg as she speaks. Then she inclines her head to look at Ellie and tells her, "Do not come to my attention in this manner again, Little One."

The Queen turns on her heel and leaves, snapping her fingers for her Commander to follow. He does so reluctantly and Greg notices the smooth-haired wraith who had snitched on them slipping from the shadows to follow, his expression clearly frustrated.

He senses Ellie's fear and understands her thoughts that her need to escape becomes more urgent with each day.

oOo

The next day Greg can't find Ellie in the laundry area. He grabs another human as she passes and snarls in her face, "Where is she? The one called Ellie, where is she?" He's vaguely aware of a sense of panic rising in his throat.

The new girl quakes in Greg's grip and looks up at the massive wraith fearfully. "She got moved this morning," she stammers, "I don't know where to, honest."

He turns on his heel and strides out of the laundry, leaving the young girl standing shaking with fright.

He's half-way back to his room when he sees her; Ellie is running, small and fleet-footed from the other direction. When she sees him she beams happily and throws herself into his arms.

"Thank you! Thank you!" she cries.

Much though he likes the thought of her gratitude, he has to hold her out at arms length and look down into her eyes. "For what?"

"For getting me transferred to the kitchens!" she says, her eyes bright with joy. "It's so much easier there! The woman in charge, she's really nice and I won't go hungry and there's no heavy lifting and I don't have to work all through the night and I have a proper room of my own and–"

"Ellie, it wasn't me," Greg interrupts her. She stops and simply stares at him. "I'd love to take the credit for it, but it wasn't me."

"Then who…?"

Greg doesn't want to frighten her and keeps his thoughts to himself. "All that matters is that you're somewhere safe and warm now," he reassures her with a smile. But all the while she chatters away about her new duties, he worries about who might have been responsible. After all, it would not be the first time a hive Commander has promoted a slave through the ranks to worshipper simply because he fancied her as a plaything, then tossed her aside or fed upon her once he'd broken her. Ellie's ordeal may not yet be over. The thought makes Greg feel murderously possessive for the first time in his long, long life.

oOo

Ellie spends several peaceful weeks working in the kitchens. She's warm and happy there, she enjoys the work, she never goes hungry and the Chief Cook seems to like her. What's more the wraith never come down here – she supposes they never have any need to – and the only wraith she's seen in all this time is Greg… her Greg, as she's some to think of him.

She knows he has no need to come here – it only exists for the use of the humans on the hive – so she knows that, although he visits ostensibly to bring the Chief Cook small animals he's hunted during culls, he's really here to see her. The thought makes her feel as warm as when she snuggles up with him to talk through the night in her small room, cosy from being located behind the ovens.

So she's surprised when she sees the hive Commander and the short, smooth-haired wraith who had threatened her all those weeks ago. They are huddled in the shadows of one of the food storage areas, completely unaware that she had been scooping flour from one of the big barrels there.

She ducks down out of sight.

"She's far too lenient with the humans on this ship," the Commander says gruffly. "The whole hive is going to the dogs."

"Much of it is down to the big dreadlocked one and his pod brothers," suggests the other wraith.

"Yes," the Commander agrees. "She spawned them with an ancient Commander who has a similar weakness for humans. He's even been known to collaborate with them."

"An unfortunate mating then, Commander, compounding flawed attitudes towards the humans."

"Indeed. She is even trying to implement new policies that give the humans rights! Can you believe that? We must take matters into our own hands before she turns the whole hive into the laughing stock of the galaxy." Even in the gloom, Ellie sees the smaller wraith's eyes glittering greedily. "So we're agreed, then? We take it over tonight?"

"Agreed, Commander. Everything is in place."

oOo

"Greg! Oh, Greg, I'm so glad you're here!" Ellie flies through the doorway of his room without any warning or preamble and throws herself into his arms, ignoring the startled expression on his face.

Immediately he wraps his arms around her and soothes her sobs for a few seconds before pulling her out to arms length and looking into her eyes with deep concern, saying, "Are you all right? What has happened? Has someone hurt you?"

Confused at first, she frowns at his questions before realising his only concern is for her. The sudden understanding that he may return her feelings only makes her love him all the more.

She tells him what she saw and heard in the pantry, trying to recall the conversation word for word. When she's finished her story, Greg's face wears a scowl as if it were an ill-fitting coat. "It is as I suspected," he muses to himself.

"Are you – we – in danger?"

"No, Ellie, at least not yet, and I would get you to safety long before it came to that."

Ellie juts her chin out and tells him, "I'm not leaving you, no matter what happens! You can't make me!"

He tilts his head and pouts at her. "No, I don't suppose I could," he concurs. All of a sudden, Greg sweeps her up into his arms and carries into his other room, where he lays her down on the fur throws on his bed.

He enfolds her in his arms and kisses her lips tenderly and Ellie responds to his kiss without inhibition. She wraps her arms around his strong, thick torso, pulling him to her.

She wants to be held and loved; she misses the contact that she had taken for granted with her family – the welcome hugs, pats on the back, even the rebukes and then the making up. She pines for it until her body aches with loneliness and she realises that – wraith or not – Greg is loving her.

Being young and inexperienced she's so swept up with the exhilaration that she had falls into his embrace easily, wanting more, the passion she feels is new and exciting, the emotions surging in her like the tide of her beloved ocean on her home planet.

He kisses her neck repeatedly and urgently, travelling ever further down her throat and shoulders. She closes her eyes, savouring his touch and lost in the moment, until she feels the chill of air on her breast and realises he has unbuttoned her tunic and his kisses have travelled further than she had intended.

She opens her eyes and gasps. His mouth finds hers again and his hand now caresses her where his lips had been. Through her desire stirs feelings of panic. She remembers her father's lectures about wanton shamelessness and tells herself she ought to stop him going any further. But as she tries to wriggle from under him her movements only seemed to make things worse – or better.

_You're not at home anymore, _she reminds herself,_ and what's more, if we are in danger this could be the only chance you have to be with him. Damn it – I'm not going to die a virgin!_

She pushes her hands through the thick, soft ropes of his dreadlocks and looks him straight in the eye. What she sees there confirms that this is the right thing to do, and hang the consequences. She does not need to tell him she loves him, nor to hear it from him: it is there, in his eyes when he looks at her, loud and clear for all to see.

oOo

In the morning she wakes in Greg's bed and revels in the warmth and comfort of it for several minutes, breathing in as much of the soft, sweet, gingery smell of him as she can in one breath.

Suddenly she sits up. "What time is it?" she asks, but no one answers and she realises that Greg is not there.

Her stomach does a dozen somersaults and her mind is torn between fretting over being punished for being late for her early morning kitchen duties and deep worry over where Greg is.

No competition, really. She hastily throws on her clothes and goes to look for Greg.

Head down in determination, she opens his room door and walks straight into the hive Commander. He instantly grabs her arms and holds her tightly, his hard fingers digging into her upper arms.

"I know it was you!" he growls at her menacingly. "You and your –_boyfriend_!" he spits the word out contemptuously, "will pay for this!"

Just then, four drones appear from the shadows and bundle him away and down the hallway. She shudders at the expression on his face when he twists to look back at her: an alarming mixture of fear and hatred.

She stands for a few moments, confused, alone and disorientated. Where is Greg? She hurries through the corridors of the hive, not really knowing where she is going, panic mounting with every second that goes by and trying to clamp down on her tears and chase away the thoughts that keep crowding into her mind. No, she tells herself firmly, I will find him.

Thinking perhaps that he may be looking for her, she does the only thing she can think of for the moment and returns to the kitchens. But when she gets there the only wraith there is the last one she wants to see.

oOo

"The queen demands your presence." The smooth-haired weasely wraith looks pleased with himself as he adds, "I wouldn't want to be you when you get there."

Ellie holds her tongue and quietly follows behind him, walking between two drone guards.

"I believe you humans have a saying about chickens coming home to roost," the wraith sneers at her.

She would like nothing more than to wipe that sanctimonious grin off his face, especially knowing what she does about him, but what can she do? No one on this ship would listen to her anyway – no one except Greg, that is.

Her thoughts of Greg sit heavily in her heart; because of her the only friend she has in the whole galaxy is in trouble. No, not just her friend now, she reminds herself, and determines to be brave, for her lover's sake.

When they enter the Queen's chamber she looks at them fiercely, but as Ellie tilts her chin she sees a brief glint in the Queen's eye. It disappears and her anger is once again unconcealed as she turns her gaze back to the smooth-haired wraith.

"I thought my Commander was bringing the human's wraith accomplice here, my Queen?"

"Your Commander has left this hive," the Queen tells him sharply.

"My Queen?"

"I think you will find you have more chickens coming home to roost than the little human does!" she snarls.

Sudden panic flits across the smooth-haired wraith's face as he repeats, "My Queen?"

"Do not pretend you do not know what I refer to!" she says impatiently. "And do not insult me by thinking that I do not know everything that goes on in my hive!" The wraith openly shows his fear and starts to stammer. "Silence!" the Queen demands. "Your 'loyalty' shall be rewarded – you will join your Commander! Take the traitor away!"

The two drones standing either side of Ellie move forward and poke the wraith in the back with their weapons. As he turns to leave he glares at Ellie before the drones give him another push and lead him off the hive.

oOo

Ellie finds herself alone with the Queen and wonders what she ought to do next. The Queen sits silently for several minutes, just watching Ellie, as if she can read all the conflicting thoughts running chaotically through her head.

At last the Queen says, "Now, what are we going to do with you and your wraith?"

"He did nothing wrong! Please! Your maj– I'm sorry, I don't know how I should address you…" Ellie hangs her head. "Please don't punish him… it's my fault…"

"You may address me as 'My Queen' and I know exactly what's going on between you and the one you call Greg," the Queen says.

"I don't want to get him into any more trouble than he's already in… My Queen," Ellie replies sadly.

"What makes you think he's in trouble?"

"I… I thought that… because of me… I thought he was… the hive Commander and that wraith said…"

"Indeed," the Queen agrees. "That Commander could not be trusted – as you full well know – and has been replaced," the Queen tells her. "Do you not know that it was me who had you transferred from the laundry? And that the one you call Greg is one of my own offspring?" Ellie's eyes widen. "Would you like to be his worshipper?" the Queen asks gently.

"Oh yes!" Ellie cries, breaking into a smile. "More than anything!"

"He has never had a worshipper before so I expect you to work hard and be good to him." The Queen strokes Ellie's unruly curls and smiles. Her eyes flick over to the doorway, where Greg has just appeared from her private audience room, then back to Ellie, as she continues, "Although I think he is as good a judge of humans as you are of wraith." She nods her head toward Greg and Ellie turns and sees him. "Go to him, Little One."

Forgetting herself entirely, Ellie clasps the Queen's hand between her own two hands and kisses it. "Oh, thank you!" she cries before she turns and runs to him.

The Queen sits back in her throne and watches the girl's love carry her fleet-footed across the floor before her son sweeps the little human up into his arms. She smiles warmly at the emotions he emanates and says quietly to herself, "Yes, a very good judge of character indeed."

THE END


End file.
